


Bruises and Bitemarks

by thejokeristhethief



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, Locker Room, M/M, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Mission, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5666605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejokeristhethief/pseuds/thejokeristhethief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maine's frustration reaches a boiling point when Wash once again comes out of a mission banged up. The youngest Freelancer seems to enjoy pain. If that's what Wash wants, Maine is just going to have to come up with a way to provide it or risk losing the idiot to a stray bullet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruises and Bitemarks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hawkheartedlion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkheartedlion/gifts).



> Birthday present number two. Hope it lives up to your expectations. Happy late birthday XD

With a frustrated growl, Maine lifts the smaller Agent bodily, slamming him into the lockers. Wash lets out a shocked gasp, weak protests falling around them. He refuses to pay them any attention, thumbing the seals of his young lover’s helmet to release it, before lifting the piece of armour off, tossing it careless to the side. His own follows swiftly before he crushes their lips together in a fierce kiss. The other man whimpers into his mouth, arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him closer. Their chest pieces click together, causing the blonde to groan with impatience. He snorts in response before setting Wash on his feet and proceeding to strip him of his armour, discarding it with a nonchalance that he knows is bound to annoy his lover. Sure enough, the shorter man squawks with indignation. “Aww Maine. Come on, I just touched up the paint on those pieces. Don’t throw… great you threw it. Now I’m going to have to explain to the maintenance guys how it got all scuffed up again.”

He tips his head to the side, studying Wash carefully to make sure the other man is paying attention, before slowly removing the plating covering his right thigh and purposefully chucking it across the room. It bounces off the far bench with a loud clatter, causing the blonde to wince. Smirking, he raises an eyebrow in challenge. Wash stares at the leg armour for a moment before turning his glare on Maine. “Now that was just uncalled for! Stop being such a dick. It’s not like I  **meant** to get run over by that car. It just happens!”

He shrugs, hands continuing to strip Wash of his armour. The younger man lets out a long sigh, before finally resigning himself to helping, removing his gauntlets before he can get to them. Once his gloves are off, his lover reaches over to relieve him of his own armour. White and orange join gunmetal grey and yellow on the locker room floor as Wash’s deft fingers pry him from his armour far quicker than he could do it himself. Maine dips his head down, sealing their lips together again and running his hands down his lover’s sides as his chestplate joins the other pieces on the floor. His fingers travel back to trail over the spinal seal of the undersuit hiding the creamy, freckle covered skin he’s craving a taste of. He decides that having been divulged of armour to the waist has left him bare enough, batting the other man’s hands away from the remaining pieces before gripping Wash by the back of his thighs, lifting him up and pressing him back against the lockers.

“Ah fuck.” The words come out with a hiss of pain, causing him to pause and reassess the situation. His eyes darken with worry at the sound, fingers darting out to peel the Kevlar away from Wash’s shoulder. He stares for a moment, touch ghosting over the purpling skin, before his gaze hones in on the younger man’s face. Fixating on the flutter of the other man’s eyelids at the potential touch, Maine presses down lightly, tracing the the colourful blotches with the pad of his thumb. His lips join in, following the path his thumb has already blazed.. He growls at the soft moan that falls from Wash’s lips, low and dangerous. His lover’s eyes snap open, a small flush of embarrassment tinging his cheeks, words apologetic and defensive. “Aw come on Maine. It’s nothing. It isn’t as bad as it looks. I promise.”

He presses down again slowly, controlled, gaining another whimper of pained pleasure from Wash to prove his point. The younger agent seems to thrive on pain, and sometimes he thinks the rookie isn’t nearly as careful in the field as they all know they should be. Pulling the neoprene and Kevlar mesh lower exposes a pattern of contusions that perfectly outline the vulnerable areas in their equipment. The bruising over his side is a violent palette of brown, purple, black, and red; more than enough evidence to suspected broken ribs. That most certainly isn’t nothing, something Wash seems well aware judging by the way his lover is determinedly not meeting his eyes. Anger courses through his veins, filling him with an uncontrollable heat, a desire to make Wash appreciate just how valuable his life is. If the younger Freelancer gets off on pain, well Maine can make sure that the idiot will never have to get run over again to find that.

Dragging his fingers over the darkest areas of discoloration, he sinks his teeth into the pale, unmarred skin of Wash’s shoulder. The other man arches into him, biting his lip in a failed attempt to control the sounds of pleasure that erupt from him. It takes some talented maneuvering, but he finally succeeds in freeing the rest of his lover’s battered body to the chilled air of the locker room. Wash shivers slightly, crying out when his swollen member is engulfed with one of Maine’s rough hands. He strokes the other man’s cock in an uneven rhythm, thumb scraping over the tip to collect the beads of precome leaking from it. Wash grips his biceps tightly, clawing at the undersuit still clinging tightly to his skin. He roughly drags his palm over the other man’s shaft a couple more times before releasing him in favour of awkwardly stripping the tight Kevlar off. It bunches around his thigh plates, causing him to huff with annoyance. That might create problems later.

Maine captures Wash’s lips in a brutal kiss, thumbs pressing harshly into the bruises on his inner thighs. The resulting gasp is slightly more pained that he intended; his lover may thrive on pain, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t become overwhelming. And Maine wants this to feel good for both of them. If he can make Wash turn into a Freelancer shaped puddle of pleasure, then maybe he can stop worrying so much during missions.

Pulling away from the kiss, he glides his hand up Wash’s ribs and across his chest, traveling up his neck, pausing to tweak a nipple along the way. He wraps his fingers around his lover’s throat, tilting the other man’s head to the side with a careful placement of his thumb. He is acutely aware of the reaction he receives, smiling when the smaller Freelancer swallows and his heart rate spikes. Squeezing gently, he restricts his younger lover’s air, biting down on his ear at the same time and enjoying the full on shudder of pleasure it earns him. Releasing Wash’s ear, he blows on it, before leaving a trail of nips down his jaw, hand flexing in small, controlled motions, allowing the other man small amounts of oxygen. Placing a final nip just above his thumb, he peels his fingers away from his lover’s neck, tracing the path he just finished creating with his teeth. Giving Wash a pleased smile, he places a quick kiss on his lips before pressing two fingers against them. 

As dazed as Wash is, eyes clouded with pleasure and dizzy from the sudden rush of oxygen, the younger man still registers what he’s saying. Sucking his fingers into his mouth, the other man coats them liberally with his saliva, tongue circling them a few times before he pulls them out. Shuffling back, Maine tugs Wash down the lockers slightly, giving himself a better angle to work with. Without preamble, he presses the first finger in quicker than he normally would, watching the smaller man’s face for cues. Wash lets out a loud moan, pressing forward on his finger eagerly. Crooking it, he pumps in and out a few times before adding the second finger, probably too soon to be comfortable. The act elicits a whine of desire from the man he’s currently opening up quickly. He contemplates adding a third finger, but the impatient noises Wash is making convinces him otherwise. The preparation is rushed, not nearly as thorough as Maine would normally do. He’s larger than average, by a fair bit; not that it’s something he brags about, it’s just a fact. However, he suspects that if he waits any longer Wash is going to get louder, and he’d rather not have York or Carolina walk in at this moment. Not that he’d care all that much, but his lover would be embarrassed later.

Arranging the way his undersuit is hanging, he frees his cock from the fabric. Spitting in his palm, he takes himself in hand, smoothing the pitiful substitution for lube down his shaft. The other man watches him hungrily as he lines up, before pushing in quickly. He contemplates giving his lover a moment to adjust before deciding against it. If Wash wants pain, Maine is going to continue to indulge him, if only this one time. Pulling out almost all the way, he slams back in, setting a pace of long hard thrusts. Gathering the man up, he adjusts their position, once again pinning him firm against the lockers for better leverage. He finds Wash’s prostate after a few minutes and continues at the angle, hitting that bundle of nerves almost every time he presses back in. He sinks his teeth into his lover’s neck when the other man’s head falls back against the lockers, thumbs pressing into the bruises on his thighs again. That’s all it takes for Wash to finish, coming hard between them and slumping forward, head tucking into Maine’s neck with a weak cry.

He continues with the brutal pace, racing to find his completion as Wash’s hole constricts around him, milking his shaft with his orgasm. His lover clings to him as he slams into him over and over again before finding his release when Wash’s hands cup his face, tilting his head up for a sloppy press of mouths that cannot be considered a kiss with how worked up he is. With one last, deep thrust, he fills wash to the brim, releasing his hold on the other man’s thighs to catch himself against the locker. 

Maine remains inside Wash, carrying the smaller Freelancer towards the showers, cursing his impatiences for not allowing him to wait until he was full unclothed. Pulling out, he deposits his lover in the first shower stall. The younger man’s legs wobble and he briefly wonders whether the other man will fall, before Wash gains his balance. Together they relieve Maine of the rest of his armour before stepping under the hot spray of the shower. They both moan when the pressure hits them, Wash with pain and Maine with pleasure. Drawing his lover to him, he holds him against his chest, letting out a small grumble.

“I know, I know. I’ll be more careful next time. I love you too, you big softy.” Wash replies, standing on his toes to place a soft kiss on Maine’s lips.


End file.
